cecil-halifax.
There was no denying it, Old Larry was sort of a jabroni. Cameron thought the man was a cryptid, for Christ’s sake. New cryptid: the jabroni. Found selling questionable hot dogs in odd places. “Wouldn’t doubt it. That’s one of the only classes actually I pay attention in,” He admitted with a shrug. “And I’m a pretty likable guy.”
Okay, maybe he was a bit of a jabroni. But Dean thought it was kinda uncool for the two of them to be calling anyone else a jabroni, when they clearly were themselves. There’s a word for it, some big fancy one that he probably can’t spell. Starts with H? Fuck it, doesn’t matter. “Tell me about it, I don’t think my sister’s gotten over you yet, honestly. I guess you have that edgy bad boy look going for you, just can’t resist it.” At the familiar sound of his rumbling stomach, he turned towards Cecil. “We gonna go then? ‘Cause I’m so hungry I could eat a goat.” Or was it, horse?






